


The thing he feared the most

by ZarAlexander



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angsty to some extent, M/M, Romance (?), confused characters, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarAlexander/pseuds/ZarAlexander
Summary: When Ooshiba shows up at his shop for the second time in just a few days, Kimishita has the distinct feeling that something is off. What, though? A second encounter with Ooshiba might clear this up. Or not. [Ooshiba x Kimishita, Yaoi, Angsty, lots of confusion. Set after episode 14 of the anime]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taimi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taimi/gifts).



> It's my first fanfiction about "DAYS".  
> As there's very little fandom material about them, I hope this can sort of fill in the void :)
> 
> Dedicated to Taimi, who asked me for a day straight to write about these two ;)

_Make room for the prey_  
'Cause I'm coming in  
With what I wanna say but  
It's gonna hurt  
And I love the pain  
A breeding ground for hate but...  
  
I'm not, not sure,   
Not too sure how it feels  
To handle everyday  
Like the one that just passed

 

_(“I miss you love”, Silverchair)_ _  
_

 

“This place sucks.” 

 

The voice came from behind his shoulders, as fastidious and unwelcome as ever.

 

Kimishita Atsushi sighed.

 

That so wasn't the way he wanted to spend his rare and precious free time, especially after a long shift.

 

No, not at all.

 

He toyed with the store's keys for a second, pushing his finger through the ring and making them spin slowly before shoving them in his pocket.

 

“Nobody asked you to come, ya know.”

 

He kept staring ahead as he spoke but, when a snort followed his words, he could still perfectly see the image of Ooshiba's stupid face flash through his brain, complete with that awful “know-it-all” grimace that, alone, was enough to make the midfielder want to wipe him from the world's gene pool.

 

“Is this even a real shop?” the moron didn't relent “Or it's, like, one of those sketchy places drug dealers use for their... _deals_?” 

 

This time, Kimishita couldn't help but throw a quick glace over his shoulders. 

 

He just  _had_ to see his dumbness in all of its glory. 

 

“Really?” he crossed his arms on his chest “That's the best you can come up with? 'Drug dealers making _deals_ '? I'd brush up on language skills if I were you.”

 

Ooshiba Kiichi faltered.

It was just a split second, but his eyes paced the floor for the briefest moment.

 

Victory.

 

“S-Shut up!” the forward blurted out, his obvious irritation only adding to Kimishita's amusement “You could at least repaint the entrance. It's way too _fugly_. No wonder nobody wants to buy anything here. Even the other day, customers ended up running away from this place.”

 

The dark-haired boy adjusted his glasses as he frowned.

 

“Those people left because _someone_ was acting weird in my damn store! And then, _'fugly'_ is not even a real word, you dimwit.”

 

“It is. Let me show you in a real-life example.” Ooshiba cleared his throat, ostentatiously pinching his chin to seem pensive “For example, you could use ' _fugly'_ in this sentence: 'Kimishita's eyeglasses are _fugly_.' See? Makes perfect sense.”

 

Kimishita turned around.

His finger still about the metal frame of his  _brand new_ vision aids, he shuddered.

 

Slowly, he lowered his hand.

 

His enjoyment rapidly shifted into anger, forcing him to lean back against the wall to get at least ten centimeters farther from that asshole.

 

“Beg you pardon...?”

 

Ooshiba grinned, broadly.

 

“You heard me. You look 30 years older, with that stuff on. You look like an already depressed teacher who had issues with alcohol, went through a divorce and had to drop their job, only to end up teaching in a third-category school full of dropouts. Or something.”

 

Kimishita's irritation reached its peak and it took a great deal of effort for him not to grab that obnoxious jerk by the collar.

 

What the fuck was wrong with  him ?!

 

No, no, no.

He had to stay calm and breathe.

 

Very calmly and very slowly – and making sure Ooshiba could see the movement very well – he made his glasses slide down his nose some.

 

“Well, well...” he started out “Considering your current grades, in such a scenario you'd be one of my students, do you realize that?”

 

Ooshiba growled.

Mission accomplished.

 

“You damn...!”

 

One leap forward and the light-haired boy was already close enough for his hand to successfully make a fistful of Kimishita's t-shirt. 

 

“Try and repeat that!”

 

“Repeat what?” Kimishita grinned without making any real effort to hide his smugness “That you're stupid? Be my guest. You're stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stu-”

 

“SHUT UP!”

 

The shrieking sound of a passing bike caught the both of them off-guard. 

An elderly lady cycled past the entrance of the shop, a perplexed look on her face.

 

Kimishita sighed.

 

“The middle of the street is not the right place to instruct you about your dumbness, it seems.” he swatted Ooshiba's hand away “Come.” 

 

He sighed, then briefly searched his pocket for the keys.

The shutter opened with a loud metallic sound, followed by the flickering buzz of the old lamps.

 

Kimishita walked straight past the small counter and through a half-hidden metal door.

A couple of steps appeared in the darkness as another light was switched on. 

 

Ooshiba huffed.

 

“Ohi, is this where you attract your victims to gut them out? The basement?”

 

Kimishita smiled.

Broadly. 

 

“Of course. But as I only trade brains, you're pretty safe I'd say.”

 

He sat down cross-legged on a couple of big boxes, savoring his interlocutor's lack of a comeback for a long moment.

 

“So?” he resumed, eventually “Why did you even come here?”

 

Ooshiba Kiichi lowered his gaze. 

He took a step back, as if he wanted to purposefully make sure he'd stand in the darkest spot.

 

Well, given the poor illumination of that place, Kimishita doubted it'd make any difference – but it was odd, for sure.

 

“... no real reason.”

 

Ooshiba's voice came a bit belatedly.

 

The midfielder raised a brow.

Yes, way too odd.

 

“Then, the fuck are you doing still here? Go home. Or buy something, as you made me reopen the shop past the closing time.” Ooshiba opened his mouth to speak, but the midfielder continued “But, as I was telling you the other day, you probably even lack the basic level of politeness to realize this, don't you?”

 

The other boy's still gaping lips let out a low growl.

He clenched his fists, tightly. Or, at least, it looked like it from Kimishita's unfavorable position. 

 

“ _Who_ made you reopen the shop exactly? It was your idea.”

 

“Because _you_ were drawing unwanted attention, you moron. I work here, I don't want the neighbors to complain.”

 

“ _YOU_ were calling me stupid! And if the neighbors complain it's because you're insufferable!”

 

“First of all, you _are_ stupid. Secondly, everybody in the hood loves me, you're out of luck.”

 

“Just shut up for a damn second!”

 

Silence followed.

 

In his shadowy corner, Ooshiba Kiichi trembled. 

He let go of his bag, letting it hit the ground with a thud that seemed to surprise him.

 

“You...” he eventually started out, hissing through gritted teeth “... you were right.”

 

Kimishita forced out a chuckle, choking that weird sense of insecurity that was starting to coil around his stomach.

 

“I always am, you dimwit. So what?”

 

He was expecting some form of retorting. 

Kimishita Atsushi was really just waiting for some sort of mean comment to be blurted out and bring that strange evening back to some semblance of normality, but his anticipation was met by some more silence, barely interrupted by a feeble, almost imperceptible noise he couldn't quite figure out.

 

“... well? You came all the way here just to tell me that I was right to inform that being too eager to just kick every and all balls as hard as you can is not a smart way to play? Seriously? I knew that already, thank you very much. Rather, try and reflect on why you couldn't figure that shit out any sooner.”

 

That faint, weird sound intensified and it was familiar, almost too familiar and irritating, almost as if... 

 

As if Tsukamoto was there?

 

It dawned on him all of a sudden.

Kimishita Atsushi stood up, quickly covering the distance separating him from his club mate.

He grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out of darkness and under the yellowish halo of the ceiling lamp.

 

Big, round tears were trickling down his cheeks, slowly pooling around his chin only to fall freely all over his shirt. His mouth was pinched in a line, body stiff and limbs shaking in a blatant display of rage.

 

Kimishita gasped.

That was not what he had thought he'd see. 

 

Not at all, not in a million years.

Not on stupid Ooshiba's face.

 

Had that taken him off guard?

 

Yes. 

Definitely.

 

What the holy hell was that idiot crying over?

And why the fuck had he come to his shop for? Just to stand in a dark corner and weep like an infant? And what was he supposed to do with... all that? How on Earth was he supposed to even react?

 

“O-Ohi...?!” he asked, hoping his surprise wouldn't bee too obvious “Are you trying to imitate Tsukamoto in an attempt to make the coach stop swapping you out for him?” 

 

“ _SHUT UP!_ ”

 

Ooshiba's answer was quicker and louder than he expected.

 

“You don't understand, you stupid Kimishita! You never do! How am I supposed to feel, in your fucking opinion? Weeks spent trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong and then you randomly just fucking open your mouth and boom! Everything makes sense!”

 

“It's not my fault if you lack even such a basic level of critical thinking, reall-”

 

“I told you to shut up! You don't fucking get it! You are not the one who always ends up being swapped out for a complete newbie who can barely run without tripping over his own feet.”

 

“To be fair, at times, he doesn't even manage that-”

 

“ _SHUT. THE HELL. UP!_ I'm not fucking done with you! You don't get it and you just …! You call me stupid, you say I lack a 'base level of intelligence', but what if it really was _you_ the one who didn't understand shit, this time, eh, fucking Kimishita?”

 

“You should try and vary your insults, because I think you used ' _fucking'_ at least five times in the last thirty seconds.”

 

“YOU FUCKING MORON!”

 

“And there you go agai-”

 

A moment.

Just a fleeting second that Kimishita could see almost in slow motion.

Ooshiba grabbing him again by the collar, Ooshiba pulling him close enough that he could feel his panting breath on his cheek. Ever so slowly, closer and closer, until he could discern all the stupid and insignificant details of that moron's skin, including a pretty unsightly pimple, until a growl resounded and Kimishita was shoved against a precariously stashed pile of boxes. 

 

Ooshiba grabbed his lips between his teeth, hungrily kissing him as his hands still feverishly pushed him against that unstable tower of cardboard. 

 

A box of shoelaces fell from the top, but Ooshiba didn't let go.

 

Kimishita's eyes closed. 

 

A kiss.

That moron had shown up out of nowhere in front of his shop on a stupid Tuesday evening, only to cry in a corner of his basement and then shove him against the boxes of the new goods and  _kiss him_ .

 

He blinked, confused, trying to find the motivation to break free from Ooshiba's grip, from his rough lips, from his teeth. But his body wouldn't budge, so he lingered there a moment longer – given the mess he was in already, a second wouldn't change much, would it? - just enough for their mouths to open and their tongues to meet.

 

His heart skipped a beat – or five hundred, he wasn't even sure.

 

All at once, his limbs were moving again, but sure as hell not in the way and manner he wanted. He didn't want to grab that moron's shoulders, he didn't want to pull him closer, to scratch his back through his sweater hard enough to make him moan. He didn't want to return that stupid kiss, he didn't want to let go, he didn't want to enjoy it.

 

It took Kimishita quite a while to snap out of his stupor and bid himself to take a step back.

 

The whole pile of boxes crumbled to the ground due to his sudden movement, scattering shoes and shinguards and socks everywhere. 

 

“Ohi! What the fuck are you doing, Ooshiba?”

 

Shame.

That was the emotion he wanted to see, the emotion he hoped he'd see, the emotion that would finally make things right again.

 

But, even if that idiot was still crying, even if he was still shaking, even if he pitifully sniffed in the most ungracious way, his irises were burning with pride and fulfillment.

 

He had rarely seen Ooshiba so accomplished, maybe just after making some goals – although this time his expression seemed much more earnest, in a way that Kimishita couldn't really explain.

 

“You told me I am too greedy, didn't you?” Ooshiba whispered, voice hoarse but not as broken as the midfielder had envisioned “That I can't get whatever I want, didn't you? But... but I don't believe you, you stupid Kimishita. Maybe on the field I do, maybe you're right when it comes to soccer and scoring and whatever. But there is something else. Something I want more than scoring, more than being on the field, more than playing an entire match.”

 

Maybe it was naive of him.

Maybe he should have seen it coming, especially after what had just happened.

 

But words left his mouth before Kimishita could stop himself, before he could think, before he could really make sense of them.

 

“... and what is that? A brain?”

 

He added the joke in a hurry, to try and patch it up, somehow.

 

Too late. 

 

“You.”

 

Ooshiba Kiichi leaned into him again and Kimishita didn't even have the promptness to move away.

 

Their lips brushed briefly one more time and the midfielder's eyes closed in a sort of conditioned reflex. 

 

He braced himself, feeling his heart suddenly jump into this throat. But, this time, Ooshiba just let go of his grip, quickly turning on his heels and marching towards the door.

 

No way.

No, no, no.

 

No way in hell that bastard could get away with such a thing.

No way in hell he could wreck havoc so spectacularly only to retreat in the most convenient moment.

 

“Hey!” Kimishita started yelling as the realization hit him, hard like a blow in the stomach “What the fuck do you mean, you stupid Ooshiba?!” 

The light-haired forward stopped.

 

“I'm speaking with you, you moron!”

 

Ooshiba didn't turn around. 

Probably because it was obvious from the way his shoulders moved up and down that he was about to have some sort of meltdown. 

 

“I'll say this again, Kimishita. I'm not always the stupid and unaware one.”

 

Ooshiba squatted all of a sudden as he spoke, but even if Kimishita was mentally ready for a crisis to unfold, Ooshiba just grabbed his bag and shoved inside a pair of socks that had landed on top of it.

 

“I'm taking these as a payback for you forcing me to make a fool out of myself just so that even a moron like you could understand it.”

 

“Well, in that case you need to make me fucking _understand,_ first!”

 

Ooshiba Kiichi hesitated.

He straightened his back, patted his jeans clean, adjusted the shoulder strap.

Then, when Kimishita was hoping he'd speak – because that jerk owed him an  _explanation_ – Ooshiba just ran up the stairs and out of the shop so fast that not even an experienced player like him could get ahold of him. 

 

He just found himself out in the street again, raging as all he could do was stare at the figure of that dimwit getting smaller and smaller in the distance. 

 

Served him well. 

Maybe, had he trained a bit more in running, just like Tsukamoto had done, he would be chasing him now, he would be getting his explanation, he would be fixing that mess quickly, before questions and doubts could form in his head.

 

But he was out of luck.

Because that behavior was typical Ooshiba, wasn't it? Messing things up, kicking up dirt and making a racket only to leave Kimishita to do all the thinking, to run through every possible scenario.

 

How bothersome.

Stupid Ooshiba didn't deserve any of that.

 

Or did he? 

 

Kimishita Atsushi touched his lips, sighing.

They were still warm and swollen and a part of him could swear they were tingling in something akin to desire.

 

“Damn.”

 

That's what he didn't want.

That's what he had worried over from the moment Ooshiba had shown up at the store for the first time, from the moment he had seen something different from hate in that dimwit's eyes.

 

Because if it wasn't hate that he felt, it could just be one other thing.

 

The thing Kimishita feared the most. 

 

 

 

**\- The End -**

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Hated it? Let me know!


End file.
